


If The World Was Ending You'd Come Over Right?

by AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard, WardenRoot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Tag: 8x07, Eventual Smut, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Smut, most of the characters who appeared in the ep make a brief appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard/pseuds/AvaHasAClosetMurderBoard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenRoot/pseuds/WardenRoot
Summary: “Let me take care of you,” she murmurs suddenly and without thinking, her hand moving down gently from Dinah’s arm to hold her hand instead. “Please?”or a slight rewrite of 8x07 where Laurel and Dinah face their feelings for each other before facing the possible end of the world
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	If The World Was Ending You'd Come Over Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from If The World Was Ending by JP Saxe, Julia Michaels, which both of us were listening to a lot while writing this and is also the song that birthed the idea for this fic
> 
> ~~Two angsty sinners walk into a discord and the outcome is:~~

Lian Yu becomes Laurel’s own personal purgatory the second she sees the plane being shot down and beginning to crash right before her eyes. Her heart shatters in a million pieces and her gut twists painfully at the sight, and when Diggle lets out a  _ ‘they’re not going to make it’ _ , it’s like she’s suddenly losing her earth all over again. Because  _ Dinah Drake -  _ of all people _ \-  _ is on that godforsaken plane, and as much as Laurel loathes to admit it, the woman is the only thing keeping her going amidst all the loss she’s suffered. She hadn’t expected Dinah to text her the second she’d come back to Earth One; and much less expected her to call, after Laurel had a moment of weakness and sent her a text in the middle of the night saying she didn’t want to be alone. Dinah’s voice had been incredibly soft, despite the edge of sleep that clung to her every word, and Laurel had just laid there curled up in the small bed with tears running down her cheeks as Dinah reassured her over and over everything was going to be okay. 

And Laurel had believed her words with every fiber of her soul then, regardless of the rational part of her brain that painfully kept reminding her that all the people she’d loved were gone. 

But Dinah wasn’t.

No, she had been right there, sounding _ so alive _ on the other side of the line, whispering soothing words and quiet reassurances, and Laurel would have given anything she had left to be laying next to her at that moment, to hold her hand and see those vibrant eyes that had always turned so soft only for Laurel. Leaving Dinah behind when she’d decided to go back to her own Earth had been the most difficult decision Laurel had ever made in her life; but whatever there was between them - whatever those two nights they’d spent together baring their all to one another had meant, they’d known from the moment they’d shared their first kiss that they were never truly meant to end up together. 

That’s just how it is, when the one  _ you’ve fallen for _ lives on a completely different Earth. 

With the looming possibility that Dinah may be gone for good this time, Laurel really wishes she could just go back in time and change how they’d left things last time they’d seen each other, because  _ she’d been the one to make the decision to walk away in the first place _ , and she knows just how much it had broken Dinah’s heart to see her go. 

She hadn’t even shown up to say goodbye, and Laurel would never blame her for it.

And now…

The atmosphere inside the tent is tense to say the least, with everyone arguing back and forth on what should be done. Laurel stands back to hover close to William, who’s typing furiously at his tablet to try and track down exactly where the plane has fallen, and she can’t help the way her eyes occasionally flicker towards the others, suddenly feeling self conscious of them  _ knowing  _ the reason why she’s so eager to get those coordinates in the first place. They don’t, obviously, and she pushes the foolish thought away and tries to focus on following what’s happening around her. 

Coordinates are found and her stomach drops  _ the second  _ Oliver decides to have Diggle, Connor, and Lyla search the crash site, while her and Oliver have to go look for the godforsaken plutonium instead because  _ Mia  _ refuses to go with him. It’s ridiculous and childish - on both their accounts - and Laurel really wishes she would be left out of another Queen family drama scene, but she can’t say anything without giving too much away. 

And so she doesn’t - she pushes all her feelings down, pushes the worry gnawing at the pit of her stomach and the suffocating feeling of loss that has its claws wrapped tightly around her throat, and follows Oliver out of the tent and deep into the island. 

******

Laurel’s eyes are constantly on the tablet Oliver is holding as they walk, the two red dots on the screen both signalling the location of what they’re looking for and where the plane has crashed. It takes every ounce of willpower for her not to just run in the opposite direction of where they’re going, but at least she gets to take out some of her frustration on Oliver about Mia and how he’s handling having his daughter around. It helps somehow, or at the very least keeps her brain busy with something other than wondering over and over if Diggle and the others have found Dinah… and if she’s even alive. 

They’re ambushed, because  _ of course they are  _ and  _ of course it’s by Oliver’s dead buddies,  _ who are suddenly  _ very much alive,  _ and Laurel feels like with Oliver Queen this is just another Tuesday kind of thing. Laurel manages to down at least one man before everyone is suddenly gone, and it doesn’t feel enough - if these guys are the ones who shot down that plane, she sure as hell wants to make sure every single one of them pays for what they’d done. Except Oliver hands her the radioactive case and tells her to deliver it to William herself, while he goes off on his own cruzade after those guys because they’re his ‘responsibility’ or something. 

_ Right.  _

She watches him go, even if she really wishes he would have stayed so they could get off the island as fast as possible; but being left by herself has suddenly opened up the possibility of her going to check the crash site - it really doesn’t take Laurel more than one second to make up her mind about it, and she quickly turns to follow the small path to her right, instead of turning around like she was supposed to do. 

The brush is thick at certain spots but she presses on, presses further towards where she knows she’ll find Dinah, shrugging off the thorns that bite at her skin as if they’re nothing. The case resting under her arm feels like an anchor slowing her every step, and halfway through her small journey Laurel starts wishing Oliver had just taken it with him instead. It sounds like a foolish thought, considering where he had run off to, but she really wants to make it to the plane - or whatever is left of it - as fast as humanly possible. Her heart begins to threaten to burst out of her ribcage with how fast it’s beating the closer she gets, and as Laurel manages to finally navigate through the tall trees and the dry brush and reaches a clearing, it’s pretty obvious she’s at the right spot.

There’s pieces of shrapnel scattered all over, twisted metal and broken glass, and Laurel pauses when she catches sight of half a plane’s wing hanging precariously from a thick tree branch. What’s left of the plane is not that far away from it, and Laurel’s mouth falls open at just how damaged the structure is. She’s not close enough to be able to see the entirety of it, but what  _ she can see _ looks frightening enough as it is. She’s frozen on the spot, wondering if she should go check it, wondering if she perhaps arrived too late and the others already came and went, when she hears someone’s grunt of pain sounding nearby, followed by voices. Laurel’s head whips towards the direction she’s sure it came from, and she has to keep herself from running straight towards it, remembering they’re not as alone on the island as they’d thought. 

The voices start sounding closer and closer with every step she takes, and Laurel is praying to every deity out there that when she crosses through the final brush obscuring her view from where she’s sure the sounds are coming from, she will find Dinah alive and okay. 

_ And that’s exactly what she finds.  _

She stands there gun ready, battered and bruised but very much  _ alive,  _ and it’s hard for Laurel to put a lid on the rush of feelings that course through her veins at the sight. There’s just so much she wants to say to Dinah at that moment and so much she wants to do, but the timing feels off; not to mention Laurel has an inkling that she has forfeit her right to show any shred of affection towards Dinah with how she’d left things between them. 

And so she masks her worry and relief. “Oh good, you’re not dead,” is all Laurel manages to let out in an attempt to be casual about the situation, but the closer she gets, the more she actually takes in Dinah’s haunted gaze and her full appearance, and her next words are inevitably laced with a barely contained edge of worry. “... Or maybe I spoke too soon.”

If Dinah notices it, she chooses to not say anything about it, and they fall into business right after. She quickly gets Laurel up to speed on what the situation is, and Laurel does the same by warning her about how they’re not as alone on the island as they thought. She’s thankful for the urgency of the situation leaving no space for awkward feelings, but part of her is still struggling to keep herself in check, to keep herself from simply dropping the case and reaching for Dinah’s wrist instead, to feel her pulse under her fingertips and drag her along back to camp, where Laurel can properly check her over. 

But there’s simply  _ no time _ , Laurel reminds herself with chagrin, and so she marches towards where Dinah came from instead, calling a  _ ‘let’s go’  _ over her shoulder as she goes. They’re silent the short walk it takes for them to reach where the others are working to get a pinned down Roy free. The sight is… gruesome, to say the least, and Laurel just stands there watching Diggle and Connor arguing back and forth about what’s the best way of getting him free. Dinah and herself end up having to be the voices of reason then, reminding them they’re running out of time, and it all comes down to Roy to make the final decision.

Laurel is really glad she doesn’t have to stick around to watch the results of that. 

******

When they finally make it back to camp, it’s like hell breaks loose all at once.

Roy needs immediate attention and so does Rene, and Laurel - not knowing exactly what to do with herself - just follows Dinah’s lead. She kneels at Rene’s left side while Dinah’s on the other side, and immediately helps keeping pressure on his leg wound without even being asked to do so. He starts thrashing around in pain the moment they get busy cleaning and dressing his wounds, and it surprises Laurel how easily she reaches out to hold his hand when she sees Dinah doing the same. They share a look but don’t exchange any words, and then Mia is showing she’s Oliver’s daughter for all it’s worth and Laurel gets busy arguing a losing battle with the younger woman - Laurel ends up watching in disbelief as Mia stomps out of the tent, completely ignoring her words, and shakes her head. She should have seen  _ that  _ coming. 

She finds Dinah watching her curiously when she turns her attention back to Rene, and Laurel only offers her an eye roll in response, as if that’s all the explanation she can give for the situation. Dinah flashes her a tight smile and then her attention is fully back on Rene, and Laurel’s eyes end up lingering for a few moments on the dry blood that still stubbornly clings to Dinah’s features, and something inside her twists just as painfully as it had when she’d crossed paths with the woman at the crash site. She’d been so close to losing her, and even if she’s standing  _ right there  _ moving and talking and being her absolute selfless self, Laurel’s still having issues truly believing she is okay. 

The way Dinah’s hand keeps shaking as she cleans and disinfects a cut above Rene’s brow is surely not helping easing her worry one bit.

There’s no time to do or say something about it, however, when Lyla asks her to lend a hand with Roy, and the painstaking minutes that follow register as nothing more than a blur and white noise in her mind. When she comes to herself again it’s to an awfully quiet tent, save for the low snores emanating from Rene’s cot and the soft rustling noise coming from somewhere to Laurel’s left. She blinks a few times, eyes suddenly gone dry, and begins wondering just how long she’d been out of touch with what was happening around her. 

“You dozed off,” she hears a familiar voice saying, and it’s only then that Laurel notices the small blanket draped over her shoulders. She whips her head to her left and finds Dinah standing by one of tables, an assortment of medical supplies stewed all over its surface. “Diggle, Lyla, and Connor went to the other tent to see if they could help William. I stayed behind to organize the supplies and keep an eye out.”

It takes a few heartbeats for Laurel’s eyes to adjust to the light filtering through the small window like openings behind where Dinah’s standing, but when they do all Laurel can do is frown. “You still haven’t cleaned yourself up,” she points out. 

Dinah simply shrugs and faces away from her. “I’ve been preoccupied with other things.”

Laurel’s not sure if it’s the dismissive way the words are spoken or if it’s the way Dinah turns her back on her - maybe it’s even both those things that cause a flare of anger to spark and light up somewhere deep inside. She’s shrugging the blanket off and standing up from the chair before she can register what’s happening, and in no time Laurel’s standing right next to Dinah. The woman doesn’t look up from what she’s doing, even though she’s well aware Laurel has moved from her spot, and Laurel’s frown deepens. 

“Dinah,” she tries, “look at me.” Dinah’s hands still at her words, but her gaze remains focused on a stack of clean gauze. Laurel narrows her eyes and, without thinking, reaches out to grab at Dinah’s arm. She feels her flinch at the contact. “Hey,” she tries again, her voice a touch softer this time, “talk to me.”

A few minutes pass before Dinah lets out a breath through her nose and finally meets Laurel’s gaze. The same haunted expression from earlier is still very much present, along with unease and an edge of exhaustion that’s pulling at the corner of her eyes, and Laurel feels like all the air is being sucked out of her lungs at the sight. The anger is quickly replaced with deep rooted worry, because she’d never seen Dinah looking like this, so vulnerable and  _ absolutely terrified _ , and Laurel doesn’t even know what she can say or do to make everything better again. Her mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out, and the longer time passes, the harder it gets to ignore the moisture that is slowly gathering at Dinah’s eyes.

“Let me take care of you,” she murmurs suddenly and without thinking, her hand moving down gently from Dinah’s arm to hold her hand instead. “Please?”

She’s surprised when Dinah doesn’t try to fight her when she tugs at her hand, and instead just follows her towards the same chair Laurel had occupied not long ago. Dinah sits down on it while Laurel reluctantly lets go of her hand to go gather the supplies she needs, and it’s impossible to miss the way Dinah’s eyes remain on her every step she takes around the room. Once she’s satisfied she got everything, she returns to where Dinah’s sitting and kneels down right next to her. 

They don’t talk as Laurel busies herself with gently wiping the dry blood from Dinah’s face, but the silence this time doesn’t feel as suffocating as it once had. It’s comforting, in a way, and a feeling of warmth spreads forward from a spot in her chest when Dinah reaches out on her own accord to take one of Laurel’s hands in her own. It makes the task somewhat a challenge but she manages somehow, and when Dinah lets out a hiss as Laurel passes some disinfectant on the small cut right below her hairline, Laurel squeezes her fingers gently in reassurance.

“I was afraid,” Dinah slowly lets out, making Laurel pause mid motion, “that I would never get to see you again.” 

She’s not sure what drives the next words that come out of her in response. “I would never let that happen, Dinah.”

Dinah blinks at moisture that’s gathering at her eyes again and whispers quietly, “But you left.”

It stings, as it rightly should, and Laurel’s hand that’s not being held by Dinah drops uselessly at her side. Laurel feels like she has to push down at the rush of emotions that are steadily climbing their way up her throat once more, but with both their mortalities hanging heavy above their heads, she knows she owes Dinah - and herself - more than thin veiled promises that she’ll end up breaking. 

And so she doesn’t. 

Laurel makes the decision there and then to shed all those layers, to let those walls she’d spent years building up crumble to dust so she can let Dinah  _ in  _ for good, because if the world is coming to an end she’ll be damned if they go down as nothing more than  _ this.  _ There’s tears running down her cheeks when she surges up to crash her lips against Dinah’s but she doesn’t care - she pours every ounce of emotion into a kiss that starts off as tentative and gentle as possible, but that ends up turning more hungry and urgent the longer it goes on. Soon, Dinah’s gasping against her lips and one of her hands has somehow moved to tangle in her short hair, and the action only serves to spur Laurel on. She forgets they’re actually  _ not alone  _ in the tent and lets out a growl at the action, pushing herself up to get as close as possible to Dinah. Laurel ends up straddling her on the chair, breaking the kiss so she can mouth at Dinah’s neck without a care, only dully registering the faint warnings spilling from Dinah’s lips about it not being the 'time or place' for what they're doing. 

The truth is she's not pushing Laurel away - in fact Dinah's only managing to encourage her further with the way her hands slip underneath Laurel’s shirt and caress the skin there; not to mention the wonderful sounds she's trying to suppress every time Laurel’s teeth graze sensitive skin.

The sound of someone cleaning their throat sounds to their left and Laurel instantly freezes. Underneath her she feels Dinah doing the same, and despite the very compromising position they've just been caught in, she refuses to move. Laurel lets out an annoyed growl against Dinah's neck and places one last kiss there, before she whips her head towards whoever has interrupted them.

She finds Connor awkwardly standing by the entrance of the tent, his eyes darting everywhere else but them. “What?” she lets out, unbothered by how harsh it comes out. From the corner of her eye she notices Dinah shaking her head. 

“I’m really sorry for interrupting but my dad asked for you both.”

Laurel rolls her eyes. “Well tell him he can go and-”

“We’ll be right there, Connor.” Dinah interrupts her with a pointed look before she can say what she really wants to. “Thank you.”

Connor nods and turns on his heel, nearly running out of the tent, and Laurel lets out a chuckle. When her eyes meet Dinah’s again, she notices the other woman is looking everything but amused; except the way the corners of her lips twitch upwards tells Laurel otherwise. She’s just trying to be the rational person between the two of them - that’s always been Dinah’s thing anyway. 

“Did you see his face? I think I’ve never seen anyone run away that fast before.”

“Be nice, Laurel.”

She shrugs in a playful manner and lets out a small laugh, relinquishing the fact that Dinah does the same. The sound is like music to her ears. “Oh you know me, always misbehaving. Can’t help it and all.”

Dinah rolls her eyes. “Of course you can’t.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few more heartbeats, until reality sinks in and Laurel is reminded of exactly why they’re on that island in the first place. “After all this is done…” she trails off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the thought she wants to voice. She feels Dinah reaching out to squeeze her hand in encouragement. “I would like to go home with you, if you’d have me.”

The smile that lights up Dinah’s entire face at her words is all the answer she needs. She kisses her with promise, and even when they pull apart to exit the tent together, Laurel refuses to let go of Dinah’s hand, impending doom and all be damned. They’ll make it out of that island  _ together  _ and  _ alive _ , and Laurel will have all the time of the world to show Dinah just how much she means to her. 

Over and over and over again. And maybe a couple more times after that, just to make sure.

******

“Suit up.” The moment the words leave Oliver’s lips, Laurel finds her way to Dinah and grabs onto her hand. The atmosphere in the tent is somber at best, and if this is their last moments on this Earth — if  _ Oliver’s _ ghosts kill them, or the weapon William is making makes them all go boom, or Crisis erases the ground underneath them — there is only one way, with only one person, Laurel wants to spend them. She gives everyone a glare on the way out, daring them to follow as she pulls Dinah out of the tent and into another, where both their Canary outfits wait to be worn.

When they’re properly inside the tent, Laurel lets Dinah’s hand slip from her grip. Her hand feels empty and cold, like its only heat source has been pulled from it. She wants nothing more than to grab Dinah’s again, to pull her close and never let her go, their kiss from earlier still burning her lips. But they don’t know how long they have until the ghost army has to be dealt with, and so the smartest thing to do is to get suited up.

Trying to ignore the curious eyes boring into her back, Laurel pulls out her Canary costume and discards her jacket. After pulling off her sweater, she throws a glance over her shoulder to see Dinah still fully dressed. “Aren’t you going to get changed?” she asks, feeling underdressed in only her tank.

“Right.” Dinah slowly shrugs off her jacket, but the action that catches Laurel’s attention is the lip pulled in between her teeth. The taste of those lips on Laurel’s is all she can think about as all thoughts of getting dressed leave her.  _ Fuck it _ . They’ve still got  _ some _ time, and in case things don’t go in their favor, Laurel doesn’t want to die without having felt Dinah as close as humanly possible at least one more time.

Letting go of her hold on her pants before she can unbutton them, Laurel turns her whole body around to face Dinah. In just a few steps she’s closed the distance between them again, and she buries a hand deep in Dinah’s curls as she pulls her into a kiss. Dinah freezes at first, before Laurel feels the tiniest smile break out against her lips as Dinah grabs at her waist, her lips moving so perfectly against Laurel’s.

Laurel reaches for the hem of Dinah’s sweater, intent on getting it  _ off _ of her, but before she can, she feels fingers skirt up her sides as her tank top is pulled over her head. The few seconds spent apart as a consequence feels like an eternity, and Laurel reconnects their lips the moment she’s able. Dinah’s hands dance along her bared skin, bringing back all kinds of memories of the two previous nights they’ve spent together.

As the need for air becomes too great to ignore, Laurel reluctantly pulls back. But she doesn’t let the few seconds needed to regain her breath go to waste, once more reaching for Dinah’s sweater, this time succeeding in pulling it off.

She doesn’t get any time to admire Dinah’s new look as their bodies slam together again. Dinah keeps pushing forward, forcing Laurel backwards as Dinah’s lips kiss their way down to her collarbone.

When Laurel feels her hips collide with what she identifies as a table, one of her hands shoots to grasp its edge to stabilize herself. Dinah doesn’t even give any indication that she’s noticed, save for the fact that instead of pushing Laurel backwards, she’s simply pushing her own body as close to Laurel’s as she can manage. Laurel certainly isn’t complaining as she reaches for Dinah’s tank, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the floor.

Dinah’s mouth continues southwards, leaving a wet trail across the top of Laurel’s breasts. No sooner have they become equally undressed, than Dinah reaches for Laurel’s bra and does away with it too. Laurel wraps her hand back in Dinah’s hair as she pulls her up for another kiss. The action pushes their torsos flush, and Laurel has to hold back a moan at the feel of their bare skin touching. It brings back a flood of memories from their first night. The way Dinah had looked, tasted, felt like is still burnt into her brain, and at the reminder, all Laurel can think is she wants  _ more _ , wants to experience everything she experienced back then.

This time it’s Laurel’s lips going rogue, tasting Dinah’s skin as they make their way down her throat. Dinah’s hands make their way between their bodies, quickly undoing the button on Laurel’s pants. Laurel finds a fresh bruise beneath Dinah’s shoulder, presumably from the crash. She presses an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to it, before opening her mouth to not so gently drag her teeth across it. Dinah lets out a hiss at the action, and Laurel presses a firmer kiss to the bruise before continuing to explore Dinah’s chest.

She has to push away from the table as Dinah pushes her fingers underneath the edge of her pants and underwear. She hastily kicks off her boots as the garments are pulled down, and before long she’s completely naked. She is about to complain about how clothed Dinah still is, but the words die in her throat as Dinah drops to her knees, hands finding Laurel’s hips as she presses a kiss dangerously close to the inside of Laurel’s left thigh.

“Fuck,” Laurel lets out under her breath, nowhere near prepared for the sight of it all.

Dinah’s lips pull up in a smug smile as she coerces Laurel’s right leg over her shoulder, holding Laurel’s gaze through the motion. Laurel’s eyes close as she’s fully revealed to her lover, and her hand once more buries itself in Dinah’s hair, helping guide her head close as Laurel’s entire body is lit on fire. Her other hand clutches the edge of the table, offering a little help to Laurel’s balance.

When Dinah’s mouth makes contact with her folds, Laurel bites down on her lower lip, forcing all the sounds begging to escape her mouth back down her throat. She throws her head back and opens her legs as much as she can without losing her balance as Dinah starts eating her out in earnest, not even trying to draw anything out like they’d both done the previous times they’ve been in this situation. There is no room for taking their time now.

Dinah’s fingers sneak their way between Laurel’s legs as Dinah’s tongue focuses on her clit, and soon enough they’re pushing inside of her. As the hand on the table tightens, Laurel regretfully releases her hold on Dinah’s curls. She brings her now free hand up to her mouth, letting her bottom lip go as she bites down on her hand to stifle the moans clawing at the back of her throat.

Dinah’s fingers pick up their pace as she sucks Laurel’s clit into her mouth, and Laurel knows her knuckles are white with the strength she’s holding onto the table with. As she finally comes, shudders wracking through her body, she does her best to remain as quiet as possible. She half expects her hand to be bloody when she pulls it back, but she’s relieved to see she hadn’t broken skin with her bite.

It’s not that she’s ever cared much for anyone knowing what she’s up to or been particularly worried about them hearing her. But these last few moments with Dinah before whatever happens  _ happens _ are too private, too intimate, and Laurel wants to keep them all to herself.

She stumbles a little when Dinah puts her foot back on the ground, but quickly catches herself as her arms move to pull Dinah up and flush against her once more. It is only then that she is reminded that Dinah still has  _ clothes _ on.

Declaring them public enemy number one, Laurel makes quick work of the rest of Dinah’s clothing, and soon enough nothing remains to keep them from fully touching. Laurel rests a hand on Dinah’s side, and as they kiss, and Laurel tastes herself on Dinah’s tongue, her hand reflexively clenches, her nails digging into Dinah’s skin. It only serves to make Dinah push their bodies impossibly closer, and Laurel finds herself as trapped between Dinah and the table as she was when she had originally made contact with it.

Determined to make the best of her situation, she maneuvers one leg between Dinah’s, pushing them apart. Her thigh travels higher than she meant to, and she gasps when the slickness between Dinah’s thighs makes contact with it. As Dinah kisses her way down to Laurel’s neck to suck on her pulse point, Laurel slides her hand down Dinah’s stomach, drawing in a sharp breath as her fingers make contact with her folds.

Using her thigh as leverage, Laurel eases two fingers into her lover, reveling in the responding moan, muffled by Laurel’s skin. Dinah’s fingers dig into Laurel’s shoulder, and Laurel doesn’t think a burning sensation has ever felt so  _ good _ . As she works Dinah higher, Dinah’s lips loosen against Laurel’s skin until instead of sucking on it, all Laurel can feel against her neck is Dinah’s increasingly rapid breathing. That is, until her walls flutter around Laurel’s fingers and Dinah’s teeth bite into the junction between Laurel’s neck and shoulder, stifling the moans Laurel longs to hear.

As Laurel slows her fingers, gently fucking Dinah through the last of her orgasm, she has half a mind to abandon everyone and drag Dinah somewhere remote on the island. Of course she won’t, not with the stupid  _ conscience _ Dinah had helped bring out in her — she can’t abandon their friends (a word she never thought she’d use to describe them). And neither would Dinah.

But if the world is going to end anyway, she’d prefer it be while drawing out every last sound Dinah’s lips will make, every shudder her body has to give.

“We gotta go soon!” Rene’s voice cuts through their haze from somewhere outside the tent. Dinah sighs, pressing a small kiss to Laurel’s throat, and Laurel throws her best glare towards the entrance of the tent, daring Rene to come looking for them.

“We should get dressed,” Dinah says softly, despite making no move to untangle their bodies. Laurel gives a non-committal noise in return, happy to stay like this until everything is over.

“Now, people!” Laurel lets out a low growl in the direction the shout had come from as she wraps her arms tighter around Dinah. She’s not ready to let go of her just yet, not ready to leave the prospect of touching her again in the hands of fate.

“We’ll make it through this,” Dinah whispers, as if reading Laurel’s mind. “Then we’ll go  _ home _ .”

Laurel swallows. The place she had considered home is gone forever, but on the off chance they somehow manage to make it through this unscathed, she wants nothing more than to make a new one with Dinah.

Laurel nods, not knowing how to put any of her feelings into words. She kisses Dinah for a precious few seconds before finally letting her go, reluctantly forcing her legs to carry her over to her abandoned Canary suit. They get dressed in silence, and when it comes time to go, to face Oliver’s demons one last time, Dinah grabs Laurel’s hand and Laurel never wants to let go.


End file.
